


Attention Whore

by infectedscrew



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alcohol, Angry Kissing, Angst, Back Alley Fucking, Car Sex, Emotional Constipation, Finger Fucking, Hand Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-07
Updated: 2016-05-07
Packaged: 2018-06-07 00:00:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6775663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infectedscrew/pseuds/infectedscrew
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jason just wanted a little attention, was that so much to ask?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Attention Whore

Everything burned but in the most delicious way. The clench around his heart was both thrilling and nauseating. It was everything he needed and nothing like what he wanted. Alcohol was the better alternative to punching down walls, he had decided; he was rather impressed with himself for not picking the latter option. Wouldn’t Bruce be just so proud.

“Fuck, couldn’t even grab the good stuff,” Jason complained, throwing the liquid confidence down his throat. He grimaced when it hit in all the wrong ways. He shook his head harshly sending his world spinning.

The bottle slid out of his hand, shattering on the alley floor but he really couldn’t bring himself to care. It was empty anyway.

Just as he was lurching over to grab another bottle out of his bag, the world got very dark. There were only three reasons why the lights had any right to get that dim. First, the moon decided there was no reason to live, which he didn’t think was right considering the fact he could still see the object in question. Second, he had passed out but that didn’t work either because he knew for a fact that he was still awake, unless, of course, he had really boring dreams.

That left only one other option. And that choice made him spin on his heel lifting his knife in defence.

“Put it down, Jason,” Batman growled at him, not even flinching at the danger presented, but then, he never did.

Jason pulled his lips back in a snarl. “I’m not doing anything wrong,” he stated, almost childishly. “I am just sitting in this alley enjoying my drink.” He knew, even as he finished that sentence Batman was lifting an eyebrow at him.

“Does that drink include three bottles of whisky stolen from the store around the corner.” Not even a question just a simple statement of fact.

Maybe it was the alcohol but, Jason faltered slightly after the question. “Maybe…” He admitted after a moment. “But what do you care? You only notice if I’m doing something wrong!” The blade was slipping in his grasp but he didn’t care. At least Bruce was talking to him now, even if it was a lecture. That familiar pang in his chest returned, almost reaching up to slap him in the face. He knew what he wanted but he was never going to get it and that was almost worse than being dead.

Batman shook his head. “Jason, you need to go get some rest. You’re drunk,” another statement.

Jason petulantly stamped his foot. “I don’t need to do anything,” he shot back, shoving his blade back into its sheath and crossing his arms over his chest. He was so focused on looking rebellious that he didn’t notice Batman stepping right up in front of him. When his gaze reoriented itself, he frowned and jerked back, his shoulders hitting the alley wall.

A black covered hand shot out, trapping Jason’s shoulder against the wall. Instantly, he started to struggle. He hated being stuck and hated even more that he hadn’t seen it coming. Still, a little voice snickered at him, at least he was getting Batman’s attention as strained as it was.

“You need rest. I’m taking you home.”

A strange little flare of hope and desire unfurled itself in Jason’s stomach. Home meant closer to Bruce. And that thought changed his mood for the worse. How could this man, who he had wanted for so long, suddenly take an interest? He had no right. Fury curled, red hot and dangerous in his stomach. Despite how much he just wanted Bruce to hold him, right now, he just wanted to break that smooth mask.

Jason tilted his head forward, bringing their faces very close together. “What’s the matter, Batman? Can’t give up on your greatest failure? You just have to come and pity me in the back of an alley?” He was seething with rage.

That made Batman draw back. The jaw tightened just enough for Jason to notice. “That isn’t true,” he stated, clinical as ever.

There was a snort from Jason. “Please, don’t try to tide me over with vague comforts. That only works on Dick,” he growled. He lifted a hand. “Why not look me in the eye and tell me what you’re really thinking. Face me, Bruce, like the man you claim to be.” His fingers curled around the edge of the cowl, threatening to yank it off.

Instinctively, Bruce stopped Jason with a vice-like grip on his wrist. His mouth tightened to thin line and it was clear he was trying to do his best not to throw Jason against the wall. However, Batman never did anything out of a rage, no matter how much he longed to do so.

Instead, Batman gripped his shoulders, tugging him close. Presumably to carry them into the night and to that infamous bat car. Jason prepared himself to be launched into the sky. But that was no where near what he got.

“You want me to notice you?” Batman whispered, tones like water sliding over gravel.

Jason blinked, going still. He looked up at the legend before him, subconsciously tugging on his hand to get away. A shiver rolled down his spine. Cowl or no, he knew what sort of look Bruce was giving him. And the intensity of it had the power to make his knees melt no matter what. Still, he was never one to back down. He frowned, eyes narrowed.

“Don’t tell me you’re just figuring that out now? Some detective you are,” he drawled, wanting to cross his arms defensively but not getting the chance.

There was a pause as something seemed to shift in Batman’s countenance. If Jason didn’t no better he was making the change between Batman to Bruce. However, he was more concerned with glaring and pouting than focusing on what Batman was doing. In a few seconds, that was all about to change.

“Jason,” Bruce breathed, the very sound sending waves of pleasure down the rebel’s spine. “I’ve always noticed.”

Before Jason could blink, a disturbingly, shockingly, gentle mouth closed over his. Never, to his second dying day would Jason admit to squeaking when Batman kissed him but he had, he most certainly had.

Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe it was years of sexual frustration, whatever the case, Jason threw himself into the kiss. He nipped at Bruce’s lower lip, only just now realizing how close their heights were. The thought that he was almost as tall as Bruce Wayne sent a thrill of pride through him. Nothing like an ego stroke to add to physical pleasure.

Batman shifted, shoving Jason against the corner, completely blocking them from the rest of the world. Even in the middle of kissing someone to oblivion, he was still very conscious of everything around him.

Jason groaned softly, his head spinning for more reasons than just whiskey. He gripped the famous bat-symbol like it was his only life line.

Next thing he knew, he was in the famous Bat vehicle and they were speeding toward the Manor. He wasn’t sure how they got to the car nor did he really care to think about it. Every time he did, it made his head spin, although that might have been blamed on the fact that his lips still stung with the feel of Bruce’s. His entire body felt hot, like another touch was going to make him shatter into a million smoldering pieces.

“Bruce…” It was a hiss, there was no begging or pleading from him. No matter what it did to him, he wanted more.

The car turned sharply and he suddenly remembered a time when Robin had been told by Batman that seat belts were one of the few lines between life and death. What a stupid thing to say to a boy that would be slaughtered days later.

“We’re almost there,” Bruce rumbled and for a split second Jason wasn’t sure if the voice came from the man or somewhere deep inside his own skull.

He growled, the liquid courage making him demand more. “No. Now.”

The car halted with more force than was needed but Jason didn’t care. The spinning, whirling feeling made his stomach flip in the best ways. The split second that Bruce took to take in a breath was all Jason needed to lurch across the car and crush their lips together again. Somehow, he managed to slither into Bruce’s lap. He grabbed the edges of the cowl, finally getting a chance to shove it back. Teeth sank into his lower lip but there was no way he’d regret being able to tangle his fingers into thick black hair and pull.

“Jason,” Bruce hissed at him, leaning away, blue eyes chips of ice.

“No, Bruce,” he snapped. “I want this and I’m getting it.”

There was a pause as two very different minds collided and fought against each other. Then something very small and fragile disappeared from Bruce’s resolve and Jason knew he had won this battle. His smirk spoke volumes of his victory and it didn’t disappear until Bruce’s mouth took it away.

Their hands were a flurry of motion. Jason snapped all the hidden catches on the famous suit, while Bruce shoved away the layers of shirts and jackets. Both only stopped when the upper half was exposed and only moronic belts were blocking their continuation. Jason was only given a moments break before Bruce tilted forward and bit at a scar running over the side of his ribs. He couldn’t stop himself, he groaned and arched, pushing the already tiny space closer.

“Fuck, Bruce,” he ground out, his hips rocking forward, bringing delicious friction between them.

Bruce’s answer was a sharp bite into soft flesh. His hands, so much stronger and larger than Jason’s own clutched at his back, holding him in place. The man who had so haunted his thoughts was moving against him in a way that shouldn’t be legal. Everything was making him moan and push back against iron muscle. He wanted more and he knew he was going to get it.

One of the hands moved and, suddenly, the belts were no longer a problem. Jason could feel the solid strength of Bruce’s thighs under his own. He moved against them, loving the harsh roll of muscle and the slick-slid of sweat. Before he could even think of moving again, the hand moved behind him, threatening to enter.

His upper lip lifted in a silent snarl. There was no way Bruce was going to get the upper hand. He released the hair and dipped a hand down to grip Bruce’s erection. His fingers tightened to an almost painful level and it was more than satisfactory to feel the man stutter under him. A rather dark chuckle rolled out of his throat.

But the humor didn’t last long. Just as much as Jason hated to lost control, so did Bruce. One hard, calloused finger shoved inside Jason, making him gasp and jerk back against the steering wheel.

“Bruce! Fuck, warn me,” he spat out, digging his nails into Bruce’s shoulder as punishment.

The older male paid him no heed as he worked the finger inside. For once, Jason didn’t mind being ignored, if it meant that Bruce’s finger was hitting that spot just right. He moved against the hand, groaning quietly as another digit was added to the pleasure/pain of it all. Jason teased Bruce’s cock, playing with the head and stroking down to cup his balls.

Bruce groaned against his chest, his hand stilling briefly. The pause didn’t last long before he was biting at Jason’s chest again and thrusting his fingers faster. Jason moaned loudly, rocking his hips down to meet the intrusion. Honestly, he didn’t care if Bruce made him orgasm with just his hand. Everything felt so good and so right. Each nerve was sparking with every movement and his moans echoed in the car.

Not even the pressure of the unforgiving steering wheel in his spine was enough to stop the glorious feeling of it all.

“Bruce,” he panted, thrusting back against the hand—and when had it become three fingers? “Bruce, go faster.”

Bruce, for once, obeyed. His hand moved at a speed Jason didn’t think was possible but didn’t care to question. All he knew was that his body was on fire and he never wanted it to end.

But it did. It had to. That didn’t mean it ended badly, however. The harsh feel of Bruce’s teeth against a nipple and those fingers striking a bundle of nerves shot Jason into a heaven he didn’t know existed. With a strangled cry, his body arched gracefully, his hand tightened around Bruce and he spilled over their stomachs.

Vaguely, he could feel Bruce cum over his hand. The warm liquid spilling over his fingers and the heady scent filling the car.

With soft pants, he slumped against the wheel, feeling bone achingly tired. He barely had enough energy to wince when Bruce pulled his fingers out. All he could do was fall against the man’s chest when he was tugged forward. He didn’t care if it was weak or if he was having the worst time staying awake.

All he knew was the a terrible night had ended perfectly.


End file.
